Harry Potter and the Shichinintai
by Chaotic Demon
Summary: Voldemort resurrect a certain band of mercenaries to get rid of a large thorn in his side. Harry Potter Inuyasha crossover.


Once again I'm venturing into the world of clichéd plots, and once again I'm going to have to try to not make them so cliché. Anyway, I've been looking for a Harry Potter Inuyasha crossover including the Shichinintai, but I haven't found one yet. As a result, I decided to write this. I also decided to try me hand at some surrealism. Please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Inuyasha.

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Death, Bankotsu decided, was uncomfortable. He had once told Kikyo that it didn't matter what one did in life because there wasn't a heaven or a hell. He wasn't sure if she had believed him, but he had been telling the truth. That leads back to Bankotsu's revelation. Death was very uncomfortable, not to mention boring. 

Everything was gray. Not black. Not white. Gray. A completely sickening shade which rested in the exact center of the grayscale. It wouldn't have been so bad if the color was the only thing neutral. However, the afterlife seemed determined not to play favorites. Thus, he had spent the last couple of centuries in complete and utter neutrality. He was never exactly hungry, but he was never quite full. It was never dark, yet it wasn't bright, either. The temperature was an unnerving compromise between warm and cold. He was stuck floating in a world full of uncomfortable neutrality.

He sighed, but no sound came out. There was nothing to do here. Occasionally someone else would float by him, but since sound didn't carry he couldn't have a conversation. It had been pretty funny when Jakotsu floated by about a century ago. He had been upside-down. Or was it Bankotsu who had been upside-down? He couldn't tell. Anyway, Jakotsu had been trying to amuse himself by striking weird poses. He chuckled soundlessly at the memory before wincing at the feeling of movement.

It wasn't a wince of pain, but one of discomfort. He didn't know how to describe it. The floating feeling wasn't what one would normally feel when doing it and it felt really weird when he moved. If he had been from Kagome's time he would have said that it felt as though he was stuck in gelatin. He was sick of that feeling. Actually, he was pretty much sick of being dead.

He looked at the dull expanse before him and blinked in surprise. Did he just see what he thought he saw? Yes, he did. He watched with an avid interest as the gray swirled and separated into both black and white. It kept swirling and colors emerged and joined in the mix. He couldn't help but think that it was like watching someone mix paint, only in reverse. The world kept swirling and new colors kept appearing. Suddenly Bankotsu felt as though he was being burned alive. The heat was unbearable and he could feel his skin starting to tighten and dry out. The gelatinous feel of the surrounding area vanished and he felt himself plummeting through the air towards an unseen bottom. He closed his eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came.

Without warning the plummeting feeling stopped and he felt himself laying an the ground somewhere dark, cold, damp, stale. The sound of his breathing and his heartbeat filled his ears. He opened his eyes but could see nothing through the darkness. His head was pounding. Slowly, the pounding in his head diminished. His eyes started to become accustomed to the dim lighting in the room and he looked around. He was in some sort of stone room. It looked rather old and the only lighting came from torches resting in the simple iron brackets on the walls. He heard water dripping in the background. The distinct sound of a single drip echoed loudly in his ears for a moment before his mind tuned in on voices talking in a foreign tongue. He sat up to take a look at the speakers. There were three figures. One was a woman who had black hair and was vaguely attractive. Just the sort of person, he mused, that Jakotsu was bound to hate. The second figure was a meek little man with watery eyes. Those two appeared to be in some sort of a fight and were obviously the source of the noise. While those two were busy arguing the third figure, concealed entirely in a black cloak like the ones he had seen foreign traders wear sometimes when he was alive, turned his head towards the mercenary. From beneath the shroud-like cloth a pair of red gleaming eyes bore into him. Instead of being frightened like most would have, Bankotsu merely sighed and cocked his head slightly to the side, still surveying the people in front of him. He had figured out by now that he had been resurrected once again and he wanted to know how similar these people were to Naraku.

The cloaked figure suddenly said something in an oddly sibilant voice. The man and woman instantly stopped arguing and looked over in Bankotsu's direction. In turn, he narrowed his eyes, assessing the fact that the covered person seemed to be the leader. Another hiss of a command and the woman approached him. "Bankotsu of the Shichinintai," she said slowly, not used to speaking in Japanese, "My master wishes for your aid in dispensing a thorn in his side."

Bankotsu raised an eyebrow. He couldn't really be too shocked that he would be brought back from death for this purpose. "And who is your master?" he asked.

His answer came in three words. "The Lord Voldemort."

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Dun dun dun… Did anyone enjoy that? Yes? No? Maybe? Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out soon. 


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